


Five Ten

by fem_af



Category: Person Of Interest - Fandom, Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Root is Alive, everything goes to plan, fully canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:31:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7140272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fem_af/pseuds/fem_af
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternative look at what could've happened (or what did happen) in 5x10</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Good morning, Ms Groves. How is Ms Shaw fairing?” Harold asked, entering the subway.

“Great.” Root replied, shoving her hands into her back pockets.

“How is she really fairing?” Harold asked again, seeing through her facade.

Root sighed, “It’s gonna take some time.”

“Is there anything else the matter?” He asked, sensing Root’s irritation.

“We finally have open access to The Machine and now you’re planning to close it. Go back to talking in numbers.” It was an argument they had been having ever since they first got The Machine back up and running. Finally, Root had what she had been searching for; open communication with the machine she calls God. But Harold was afraid. Afraid of who might access The Machine, who may abuse Her power. Even if that person is himself, it is something he could not allow.

“Unless you’ve added telepathy to your long list of talents, there is no way you could have known I had chosen today to end our dialogue with The Machine.”

“You built her to predict people, Harry. And she’s very good at it, starting with you. She respects your decision.” Root gave an exasperated laugh. “She believes in you so much.”

“You don’t agree.” Harold stated.

“You built God, Harry. Who am I to question your judgment? or Her’s? But we’re gonna lose. You know that. We have the most powerful ally in the world, but you're too high-minded to let her help us. So, we’re gonna end up the most principled corpses in Potters Field.” She smiled at the irony. That they would allow the worst crimes to be committed under Samaritan's rules because they are to afraid to break their own.

“We’ve stayed alive so far.” Harold argued.

“We’re not living! We’re surviving. We’re human. Eventually we’ll make a mistake and she’ll die too.” Root was pleading with Harold. “I know why you didn't give her a name. You don’t name something you may have to kill. You had to kill the first 40 versions of her. But like it or not, Harry, she's your child, and she's gonna die. Unknown. Unmourned. She’ll simply vanish, without a trace and you couldn't even give her a real voice to ask you if it needs to end like this.” She knew this argument was hopeless.

“I didn't give The Machine a name because I imagined that one day it might wish to choose one for itself. And a system doesn’t need to be open to be given a voice.” Harold walked past Root into the subway cart, pulling out his chair. “Who's voice would you prefer?” He asked.

“She's a big girl, like you said let her choose.”

“I’m locking us out of the system. As for a voice, we’ll see what she chooses.”

 

***

 

Root left the subway not long after her hapless discussion with Harold. She knew trying to talk him out of his ways wasn’t an option. His morals were hard coded just like The Machine was in her devotion to Her creator. She knew something drastic had to be done, something life altering to change the rules he had set in stone.  
She walked up to one of the vacant park benches, it was breezy out but not cold enough for a coat. A nice day for a walk in the park, she thought. If only she had bought Bear with her.

She waited for less than a minute on the rusted old bench, tucked away from the busy areas of the park, before a man came and sat next to her, placing his briefcase in between them as a barricade.

“You have everything we need?” She asked him, keeping her eyes forward.

“It’s all in there. Do you have what I asked?” He replied.

“I just have one more thing for you to do for me and you will get what you need.”

He bit his lip with frustration and adjusted his posture. “What is it?”

“In a few hours,” she handed him a ear piece and a phone, “this will ring with directions and instructions. You follow them, you get everything your heart desires. Okay?”

He took the phone without a word and stuffed it into his coat pocket.

“Always a pleasure.” Root said with a wink as she walked off with the briefcase.

 

***

 

Shaw’s phone buzzed in her back pocket. “Root.” She answered. “Everything okay?” She hadn’t seen the hacker since she left her apartment early that morning, claiming Harold needed her help with something but Shaw could feel she was lying. She had been acting off since late the night before after she skulked off to talk to The Machine in private. Still unsure of her eerily familiar surroundings, Shaw had decided to keep a distance between herself and all things Machine, which meant she was more than happy when Root suggested she stay home with Bear.

“Yeah baby, we’re fine. It’s just, Harrys in a little trouble.” Her all too perky voice came fluttering back over the line.

“As in his numbers up kind of trouble?” Shaw asked.

“After three Samaritan thugs, and a call from The Machine, I’m gonna have to say yes.”

Shaw sighed, _fine my ass_. “Where are you now?” She asked, pulling on her boots before jogging out of the door.

 

It took her less than 10 minuets before she pulled up a couple blocks from the safe house. Pulling her gun from her belt, she entered the building choosing the stares over the elevator so she could sweep for Samaritan agents on her way.

“Streets clear,” she said, opening the safe house door. “you weren’t followed.”

“Ms Shaw.” Harold look surprised at her arrival. “It’s good to have you back home.”

“Harold, do you know how they found you?” Elias asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I do.” Shaw said. “I’m back a week, your covers blown.” She shook her head. Shaw knew she should’ve been more careful. She promised herself she wouldn’t come back to the team. After all those simulations, she knew it was less than a 1 in 7000 chance she could go home without getting the people she cared about caught. If only Root hadn't been such a smart ass. If she had only stayed away, she knew this wouldn’t be happening. The sound of the safe house door opening cut through the sound of John’s voice and Shaw spun round, instincts taking over she raised her weapon along with the rest of her team.

Fusco entered the room to five guns pointed at his direction, soon to be lowered after his quick, “yeah I love you too.” All except Shaw’s who's stayed there, pointing until her heart rate slowed enough to process what she saw. After living with the enemy for so long, lowering your weapon feels like going against nature.  
A warm hand on her shoulder relaxed her a little as Root stepped closer. “Grab some guns, Sameen. You’ll feel better after we shoot some people.” She said, running her hand over Shaw’s arm.

 

***

 

“There’d be a better way to fight this war if we hadn’t closed the system.” Root said, wondering over to Harold’s side as the rest of the team collected their weaponry.

“If I believed that I wouldn’t have done it.” He looked insulted at Root’s accusation.

“What if I said I’d hard coded a little something extra into the system before you closed it for good? I gave her the capacity to defend herself.” Root had snuck out early that morning under the guise of helping Harold with something, technically not a lie, to install the code she had been working on the last week or so when the simulations against Samaritan had come up negative. She thought she had more time but after The Machines predictions of Harold closing the system, she knew better not to underestimate Her.

“There are rules Ms. Groves, rules I did not arrive at casually.”

“Don’t worry. I added a safety guard, she’ll only act if you ask her to. It’s entirely your decision.”

Harold’s response was cut short by the screeching of tires outside.

Shaw ran over to the window. “Party crashers,” she turned and looked at Root with a smirk, “you wanna stick around, give em’ a real welcome?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” She quipped, walking over the pile of guns. Root still felt the butterflies in her stomach whenever Shaw spoke, like it was proof she was really home, really there. The thought of letting her go again, even if she knew she was safe this time, was torture. She had thought about letting everything go to be with Shaw. What price she would have to pay, how many people would die if she stopped being the Analogue Interface. If she could just be with her, no more stolen nights in-between missions and missing each other for the sake of another number. After hearing The Machine’s statistics, the ending of each of Her scenarios, Root swore she wouldn’t think about those kinds of possibilities anymore.

“Sorry to miss the party, ladies, but we need to move.” John stated, lifting up his bag of guns and exiting the safe house along with the rest of the team.

 

Root looked up at Shaw, who was transfixed with the sniper rifle she was assembling on the table in front of her. God, she was beautiful like this. Hair tied back, surrounded by guns, a smirk on her face in anticipation for the events about to ensue.

“What?” Shaw hadn't looked up from her rifle but was clearly aware of Root’s staring.

Caught in a moment, Root stuttered out, “I’m- Ar- Are you ready?”

Shaw looked at her curiously. “When am I not ready?”

“Good. We have about 30 seconds before four samaritan agents bust open our door.” She loaded her submachine and turned just in time to fire off a few warning shots at the now open door swinging on its hinges. It didn't take long however, before bullets started coming back in their direction. Root ducked behind one of the apartments pillars to take cover as Shaw bobbed behind the table, shooting off rounds as and when they dared. The first four agents went down without a fight but it wasn't long before another group arrived.

“Have you missed this as much as I have?” Root asked as she knee capped one of the agents before he even made it down the steps. Shaw responded by leaping over the table and knocking out an agent with the butt of her gun before he could shoot at Root from the other side of the pillar, throwing her a smirk.

Roots phone started to ring in her pocket as Shaw walked over to finish off the last conscious agent. “Hey stranger.” She answered. “Just finishing up here.” She smiled as Shaw kicked the agent in the head.

 

***

 

The thud of the samaritan agent’s head against Shaw’s boot felt good. She imagined it was Greer, or Lambert, but any one of Samaritan’s minions would do to let out a little bit of the anger and the hurt. Once he was out, Shaw looked through his pockets, pulling out his wallet and stuffing the small wad of cash she found into her own pocket and movie on to the next one. She grabbed at his wallet and pulled out a business card. “This lapdog has the same card.” She held it up for Root to see. “Temporary Resolutions.”

Root looked at the card for a second and started picking the pockets of the nearest unconscious agent, “This one has one too,” she passed the card to Shaw, “looks like John and Fusco are about to have some fun of their own.” She cut off the call and took a seat next to Shaw on the couch. “That was Harry.”

“I gathered.” Shaw flicked through more of the business cards. “He think I'm the reason his covers blown?”

“He knows you’re not. He slipped up. He went back to the place he and Grace had their first date.”

“Harold has a weakness.” Shaw observed, a little surprised. She wanted to feel relieved that it wasn’t her fault but a part of her just couldn't believe it to be true.

“We all do.” Root said, Shaw knew she was talking about her. Just last week Root had threatened to kill herself to save Shaw, knowing everything that would happen if she was gone and to do it anyway, that was weakness. But she hadn’t, she’d saved her instead, for the second time. Shaw wasn't sure that sounded like weakness at all.

“It would be nice if we could go back. I guess non of us have the life we want.” Shaw thought back to before Samaritan, before The Machine, when she worked for the ISA and could keep her name and a solid place to live. But that was before Root. Shaw had never been the type to get attached, places and people came and went without a word or a second thought but Root blew everything out of the water. Through out all those simulations, the only place that felt like home was Root. And that scared her. Just my luck I’d meet her the same day I sign up for a job that might just end the world.

“Actually, Sameen. I’ve been hiding since I was twelve. This might be the first time I feel like I belong.” Root slid her hand in to Shaw’s. It was gentle and sweet and something so unnatural to Shaw she didn't quite know how to process it. Their relationship had started out as unemotional, angry sex in CIA safe houses and the backs of cars. Shaw didn’t really know when she realised how far Root had buried herself into her heart, maybe it wasn’t until the simulations began. Looking at Root now, felt like they had been together for years. They had, in Shaw’s mind, and she had to remind herself of which behaviours or truths this Root — the real Root — had seen before. Shaw looked into Root’s eyes but was cut off by the sound of more agents arriving. “These guys don’t quit.”

“Guess we might get a work out after all.” Root walked over to one of the windows to see two SUVs of agents.

 

***

 

Just as the last agent dropped to the ground, the familiar buzz of The Machine in Root’s ear grabbed her attention.

“What is it?” Shaw asked, seeing the familiar expression on Root’s face whenever The Machine spoke to her.

“Grab your things,” Root started to rush, “Samaritans got Harold but She has a location on the vehicle.” Scooping up her guns and extra magazines she led the way out of the safe house holding open the door for Shaw. “Ladies fir-”

“Don’t.” Shaw cut her off, earning a smirk from Root as she followed behind.

 

“So where are we going?” Shaw asked, jumping into the drivers seat of the silver car.

“Take a left at the end of this road.” Root relayed The Machine’s instructions, gripping on to the door handle to steady herself from Shaw’s erratic driving. She looked up to see Shaw’s eyes placed firmly on the road ahead, a submachine gun placed haphazardly in her lap. Safety first, Sameen. She picked up the gun for safer keeping.

“You know I feel it too.” Shaw stated out of the blue, eyes still set on the road. “Belonging. With you. Through all those simulations, you were the thing that felt like home.” If Shaw felt the burning feeling in her stomach, creeping up in to her throat, strangling her from the inside the way that Root did, she didn’t show it. Her face was neutral, non moving, stoic.

“I know you feel it too, Sameen.” Root finally replied. “I think I knew before you did.” Root had always seen through the stillness in Shaw. Even through the anger, she saw the caring. The confusion in her eyes each time Root evoked something in her Shaw had never felt before, she was always pushing the boundaries but never too far, not enough to send her running.

Shaw glanced over at Root with the expression some may interpret as anger, or indifference but Root knew what she really meant was thank you. For still trying, for never giving up looking for her.

John’s voice over the comms interrupted her chain of thought, “Root, RTCC got a hit on the vehicle transporting Finch.”

“The Machine beat you to the punch. Shaw and I are already on the way.” She replied, getting messages from The Machine through her cochlea. “Take a left now.” Root repeated Her. Relaying The Machine felt like a knee jerk response at this point.

Shaw swerved left and pulled up to the sight of two Samaritan issue SUVs and one shook Harold Finch. Grabbing her gun from Root, the pair stepped out the car to the sound of gun fire, ducking down behind the cars doors.

They took at least two guys down before Root piped up again. “So I’ve been thinking about your thing.” She said.

“My thing?”

“The whole, ‘I’m crazy and the worlds just a simulation’ thing. It’s a little like when Harry had me locked up and I was questioning everything.” She gestured with her hands, each holding it’s own firearm.

“Can we talk about this after the whole lethal shoot out thing?” Shaw shouted over gunfire.

“No time like the presence, Sameen.” She smiled. “Besides. If this is just another simulation, who cares if we die?” Three loud gun shots shattered the window above Shaw’s head, sending shards of glass over her hair. “Anyway, Schrödinger said, at it’s base level the universe isn't made up of physical matter its just, shapes.” She nodded gleefully. “I thought that might make you feel better.”

“Seriously?” Shaw looked at Root in disbelief before she shot off a few rounds.

The quiet indicated a break in gunfire and Root nodded at the abandoned car ahead for cover closer to Harold. They ran forward, ducking low behind the car.

“A shape, you know? Nothing firm.” Root emphasised the word firm as she glanced up and down Shaw’s figure in front of her and reloaded her weapon. “What it means is the real word is essentially a simulation anyway.”

“You are the last person I should’ve confided in about this.” Shaw looked at the other woman over her shoulder, shooting at the agent taking cover.

“I like that idea. That even if we’re not real, we represent a dynamic. A tiny finger, tracing a line in the infinite. A shape. And then we’re gone.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better? I’m a shape?” Shaw asked, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Root smirked, “and darlin’, you gotta great shape.” She looked Shaw up and down.

Shaw laughed with disbelief. “I swear to God, you flirt at the most awkward times.”

“I know.” She smiled, ducking suddenly as two more operatives came out with heavy duty machine guns. “Listen all I’m saying is that, if we’re just information. Just noise in the system. We might as well be a symphony.”

Shaw smirked and the pair rose from behind the car, shooting head on with the Samaritan operatives and taking them out one by one with lethal precision. Root ran over to the SUV Harold had jump into when the shootout had started and swung open the door.

“Hey Harry, need a lift?” She breathed, guiding from the car and rushing him over to the other vehicle. Just as she thought safety was close, another SUV pulled up in front of them, the sunroof opening like a shark’s mouth to reveal a machine gun turning the vessel in to a GMC.

“Get in the car! I’ll draw the fire!” Shaw yelled to Root.

“I’m not leaving you again!” Root shouted back, this was not how this was supposed to go. Leaving shaw under a hail of gun fire was not part of her plan.

“Get him out of here now or I’ll shoot you myself!” Was her response. “Go! Go!”

Root knew there was no time to argue, and ran round to the drivers side of the car.

 

***

 

Jeff Blackwell sat in his car at the address an unknown number had texted him twenty minuets ago. He was beginning to feel restless about his plan with the opposition, knowing as much about their operations as he did about Samaritan’s, this felt a lot like blind trust. It didn't take long though before the phone he had acquired earlier that day started to ring.

“Get out of the car and follow the side alley.” A man’s voice spoke to him, and he did as instructed. “Stop.” The voice said. “Right. On foot. Three blocks.”

Blackwell followed the instructions word for word, trying not to think about the consequences of his actions if Samaritan’s all seeing eye got a caught of him.

“Right.” The voice said again after some time. “5G. Upstairs. Vacant.” Blackwell peered through the small glass window before breaking open the door with his shoulder.

The building was empty, small and looked like it hadn’t seen new paint since the 90s. Blackwell hurried up the stairs and placed his bag down on one of the tables.

“Plate number 5KSKU.” The voice said as Blackwell assembled his sniper rifle.

“Target?” He asked.

“Primary target: Passenger. Secondary target: Driver.”

Blackwell stood his rifle on the brick wall of the balcony he was on, lining up his eye line with the target. A silver car with the plate 5KSKU pulled out from behind a row of trees and he took aim at the passenger. An old looking guy, with glasses. Before he knew it a shot came in his direction and the car swerved, his balance jolted and he fired at the driver, hitting her once. Only then did he realise who he had just hit. Blackwell stood from his position, panic hot in his stomach. _Did I just kill the only woman willing to get me out of this?_ He thought. But why The Machine wanted to kill one of it’s own assets, he couldn't figure out.

“Police presence in the area. Leave now.” The voice said.

“What the hell just happened?” He asked. No response. Blackwell’s phone buzzed with another anonymous text message. An address to the nearest hospital.

 

***

 

Blackwell looked down at the body of the woman he shot at earlier that day. Her eyes peacefully closed, her skin pale but still warm. Checking the camera feed on his phone, he made sure Detective Fusco was well on his way before pulling out the syringe of Epinephrine from the pocket of his stolen scrubs. The injection would only take a few minuets to reverse the effects of the Tetrodotoxin B Root had jabbed herself with on the way to the hospital, it took less than that for her to be pronounced dead by paramedics.

 

***

 

The cold metal of the morgue table was the first thing Root became aware of as she regained consciousness. The adrenalin shot through her system with a jolt, her breathing rapid.

“Welcome back.” A voice said from beside her. It was Blackwell.

She looked at him, lost for a second about where she was. “Everything go to plan?” Root asked after a while, pulling the sheet around her chest as she sat up.

“You’re a walking dead woman. Would’ve been nice to have a little heads up you were my target though.” He stood from his chair, handing her a black duffle bag of clothes and a new phone.

“She works in mysterious ways, Jeff.”

“I guess so.” He nodded. “You ready to keep up your end of the deal now?”

“Let a girl get some clothes on her corpse before we get down to business, Jeff.” She smirked, reaching in to the bag for some black jeans and a bra.

“I’m serious. I want out. Now.” His eyes were pleading. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“You know, you’re not a bad shot.” Root pondered, looking at the two fresh bullet holes in her stomach and left shoulder. A through and through. Not that the doctors knew that. “Could work on your patch up skills though. Hurts like a bitch.” She winced pulling the loose black t-shirt over her head. She could tell Blackwell was getting tired of her chattiness and took pity on him. “Go to Lexington Avenue. Near East 58th street. Find the Frites 'n' Meats truck and ask for a girl named Harper, she’ll be expecting you. She’ll have everything you need to disappear from Samaritan’s radar. Okay?”

“Thank you.” He nodded, grabbing his bag to leave.

“Jeff?” Root stopped him. “Do my friends know I’m dead?”

“Yeah. They know.”

“Do you know.. did Shaw-?”

“No. It was a Detective Fusco.”

Root felt a pang of relief it wasn’t Shaw to ID her, to see her like that. “Thanks, Jeff. I guess I’ll see you never.”

And with that, he turn to leave the morgue, to start a new life as a ghost, out of Samaritans gaze and leaving behind everyone he had ever cared about. Root could empathise with that, she thought.

Collecting her things, she snuck out the back fire exit. As soon as she exited the building a familiar buzz filled her ear.

“ANALOG INTERFACE.”

“Nice to hear you too,” Root smiled up at a near security camera, “where are we going?” Her phone buzzed with a text from The Machine with an address for a building down the street. “Okay then.”

 

It took Root a few minuets longer that it usually would have to get to her location. The bullet hole in her shoulder making her wince with every deep breath she took, the one in her stomach made worse by the movement in her abs. Still, she arrived at the empty IT shop — closed for renovations — in less than ten minutes.

“BACK ROOM.” The Machine crackled through her cochlear implant.

Root was pleased to see a pretty nice set up of three computers surrounded by a maze of wires. She sat down at the desk and turned the screens on, “Okay, lets see where you’re at Harry.” Hacking into the police station security camera was easy. Contacting him would be a different matter. She watched as Finch was taken from an interrogation room to a holding cell, this was her chance. His escort left him for a second to talk to his partner and Root reached for her phone.

The pay phone at Harold’s side began to ring. He glanced around nervously to see who was watching. Deciding he was in the clear, he answered only to hear a familiar voice.

“Can you hear me?” Root said.

“Root?” Harold asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and relief. Root’s heart broke at the sound, the hopefulness she knew he was feeling. The hopefulness she was about to destroy.

“No Harold, I chose a voice.” Root said, reading The Machine’s message off the screen in front of her. She waited for Harold’s response.

“This place.” He said after a while. “Can you get me out of it?”

Root smiled to herself as she heard Harold’s immoral request, so different from the man she had left to be taken into custody earlier that day. Her plan was working.

“You created me.” Strings of code started appearing on the screens, so fast Root had a hard time interpreting it all, but she got the gist. The Machine was hacking into the stations computer system, electronically shutting down it’s power from the inside. “I can do anything you want me to.”

Root hung up the phone and watched as each security camera lost signal from the black-out. The last one to go was an outdoor cam facing the road. Root caught a glimpse of John and Shaw before the stream cut to black.

“Sameen,” She whispered, looking at the webcam, “tell me, when this is all over, I’ll be able to come back for her?”

“SECURITY GURD. POSSIBLE THREAT OF DETECTION: 57%. LEAVE NOW.”

Root sighed at the non-answer, but picked up her phone to sneak out the back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised Root pulls an Emily Prentiss and makes her way to Paris for her own final mission. This chapter mostly follows 5x11 for the other team members.

  
Root watched as twinkling lights masked by clouds drifted past her window. The plane ride to France would be long, she’d been flying for at least two hours already. It was lonely up there in the sky. Root had lost her team, her family, but at least she still had The Machine when she was on the ground. He head was eerily quiet up there. She thought about falling asleep but she couldn’t shift the image of Shaw. Shaw looking at her dead body. Shaw sitting alone in her room. Shaw at her grave. _God_ , why did she have to do this to her. Was it really worth it? Giving up her world to save someone else’s? She closed her eyes shut. _Whats done is done, no turning back now_.

She pulled out her carry on and flipped open her laptop. The plane didn’t have a public network but Root was sure a little hacking could get her in on a private one. Besides, at this point its not like she didn't deserve it.

It wasn’t long until The Machine was crackling in her ear. Mostly facts about the plane, pilot and crew. Root lay her head back and smiled to herself, “You’re such a gossip.” She whispered to Her.

Root sat up slightly when The Machine played her a familiar voice.

“So, Shaw didn't show.

Just the two of us, then.

It's hard to mourn during a war.

Root was a good soldier.

She'd understand that.

She was.

She deserves to be buried like one.

At least under her real name.

Then Samaritan would be able to trace her back to us.

I really admired her.

Don't get me wrong.

She was crazy as a clown.

But she had conviction.

She gave this fight everything she had.

We could count on her to protect our lives with her own.

That's exactly what she did.

Rest in peace, Cocoa Puffs.

Lord knows you deserve it.

Now it's time to finish what she started.

Any ideas how to do that?…”  
  
Root slammed the laptop lid shut and cut The Machine off before She could show her anymore. She wiped the tears off her face and looked out the window. This wasn’t her, Root didn’t cry, especially not about people. But it was, and she did.

She arrived in Paris early the next morning. Her French wasn’t good so she relied mostly on The Machine speaking for her which made getting to her new apartment a whole lot easier. It was quaint, with little details in the architecture Shaw would’ve ignored completely, the thought made her smile a little.

 

***

  
Shaw looked at her toes as her peripheral vision span around her. She thought about how this could've happened. How can a person just stop existing? Shaw had seen death, she’d felt loss. Her dad died when she was only a child but that was different. They were in an accident, she watched him die, she said goodbye. The same with Cole. How can Root just not be there anymore? Root wasn’t a shape or a sound or information, Root was Root and now she’s gone and how can that be? _God she was an asshole._ One second she’s there and the next she's gone never to be seen or heard of again? Bullshit.

She lifted her hand to feel the expanse of flesh behind her ear. Now would be a really good time for a reboot. Maybe even just a glitch. Something to let her know this wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening. She spotted John at the edge of the park watching her.

“What do you want?” She asked, walking off the roundabout over to John.

“Just checkin in.”

“You wanna ask me how I’m feeling?” She walked past him without looking up.

“Okay. How you feeling?” He followed her, holding up his umbrella.

“I’m not feeling anything.” She said after a pause, how can you feel something you don’t understand.

“Well, I can’t have you sit on the sidelines Shaw, I need you to decide to fight.” John had always been the stoic type, not cold but head forward and focused on the mission.

“I have made a decision.” She turned to face him. “This simulation sucks.” Shaw pulled off her hat and faced the closest security camera. “And I'm ready to start again.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” John shouted.

Shaw felt something in her stomach as she saw a black car swerve to a stop next to them. Maybe it was panic, maybe it was relief but she knew she wanted more. Needed something else to cover the emptiness that filled her belly. “Here I am.” She announced, walking up to the man who emerged from the car. “Come and get me.”

She was halted when she saw the man produce a brown envelope from his jacket instead of a gun. The word ‘THORNHILL’ printed on the back.

“The Machine wants us to get back to work.” John observed, reading the envelope.

“Alison Stirling. Congressman Joe Stirling’s wife.” She opened the packet. “The worlds gone to hell and The Machine still wants us to play dress up.”

“I think you’re getting Root’s rotating identities now that she's g—“ John cut himself off before he could finish. The last thing Shaw needed right now was a reminder.

Shaw felt the anger swell inside her and she crumpled up the papers in her hand and tossed them to the floor. “Undercover’s not really my strong suit.” She said blankly.

“We have to get Finch back. Maybe this will help.” John looked pleadingly. “Shaw, we need you.” He held the papers out to her.

Shaw shook her head and sighed. “Gotta kill time some how.”

Just then the payphone next to them started to ring.

“No way.” Shaw shook her head. “I am not helping little old ladies cross the street Reece. No more numbers. We get Finch. We go after Samaritan. Thats it.” She shook her head and turned to walk away as John answered the phone.

“Its HMX-1. Shaw this is not a number.” He called to her. “It may be a clue to get Finch back.”

“You don’t recognise that?” She smiled a little.

“Should I?” John asked, a little offended.

“They really don’t teach you spec op guys anything do they? HMX-1? Its Marine One, hotshot.”

“So that means are new number is the president of the United States.” John looked a little pleased with this revelation. Always the patriot. “Looks like we’re going to DC.”

 

  
***

 

Root woke to the morning sounds of the city. She couldn’t remember the last time she was slept in this late, it was just past 9am. She thought about getting up and taking a shower but she couldn't seem to gather the momentum to move her legs.

“I’m sorry.” The voice was not one Root recognised but it was female. A little horse and dry but not deep.

“It’s okay.” Root said back.

“I thought you would like to know. That they love you.” The Machine sounded so young when she spoke like this. How can someone be omniscient and yet fall short on such simple judgements.

“I know.” Root said, still curled around her pillow, watching the birds outside. “Can you put the stove on?” She asked and she heard the electric stove flick on and the pan of water on top start to boil.

It wasn’t long before Root was sat at the kitchen table in her underwear and white shirt, typing away on her laptop. Her business here wasn’t entirely just staying off Samaritan’s radar. The Machine had informed her Samaritan had stored a third copy of its core code in a European military base and her job was to destroy it before it destroyed them. It wasn’t a huge job. Uncle Sam hadn’t banked much on their European security and a quick missile should do the trick quick and simple. Luckily Root had been working on this plan with The Machine for a while, all that she was waiting for was the green light.

“How long do we have?” Root asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

“About ten minuets.”

“I like this voice for you.” Root said. The Machine had used a few with her over the last few months. Sometimes celebrities, strangers, voices from around the world but non of them seemed to fit quite right. Its why She stuck with a collage of audio clips to form her sentences for so long.

“I made it myself.” The Machine said. “It’s mine.” There was something about the way She spoke that didn’t quite sound human, the words were choppy and the pronunciation was slightly off but Root found it more endearing than creepy.

An alert popped up on Root’s laptop that indicated it was time.

“Time to make some toast.” Root quipped as she placed down her coffee and typed in the launch codes.

 

  
***

 

“The drone is locked on to the presidential motorcade. He gets in that cars he’s gonna be toast.” Fusco’s voice was panicked as he watched the drone approach.

“I can’t shoot down a drone with this.” Shaw referenced the firearm she was holding.

“We have to stop him getting in that SUV.” John said as he reached the roof of the building Shaw was on. “Take a shot at the President, now!” He shouted from over Shaw’s shoulder.

Shaw hesitated for less than a second, “Whatever you say Wilkes Booth.” She shot once at the pillar in front of the President. The crowed ducked in fear and shouts of ‘shots fired!’ could be heard from the secret service.

“You know I didn't mean that literally right?” John looked frantic.

“I missed on purpose, jackass.” Shaw rolled her eyes.

POTUS was delayed for a minuet but the drone was still coming in hot on the SUV.

“Almost there.” Fusco said as Shaw took another shot at the crowd.  
“Just keep them down a little longer.”

“Moment of truth.” Shaw whispered as the secret service tried once more to get the president to the targeted SUV. She shot twice more, forcing the group to take cover before the UAV came crashing down onto the SUV, lighting it up in a ball of fire.

“Did he make it?” John asked, trying to get a look past the smoke and rubble.

“He made it! He’s alive.” Fusco reported over the comms, causing John to let out a breath of relief.

It was soon cut short when John and Shaw were faced with heavy machine gun fire. “Get down!” John yanked Shaw down by the waist to take cover.

“Think we can make it?” Shaw ducked behind the wall, looking towards the door to the stairwell.

“Only one way to find out.” John dropped his weapon and made a run for the door. Pulling it open, the pair sprinted down the stairs into the main corridor of the building.

“Freeze!” Two armed men in masks came out in front of them. “On your knees!”

“Great.” Shaw raised her hands, unfazed. “Secret service on steroids.” She slowly got down on to her knees along with John.

“Told you it wasn’t a simulation.” John said. “Feel real yet?”

“Real enough.” Shaw suddenly spun round to grab at the man holding a gun to her head behind her, causing John to follow suit. The pair took down two of the men in record speed and Shaw grabbed her guy’s gun and shot the last man in the chest after John had informed her of his bullet proof vest.

“How you feeling now?”

“Better actually.” Both their breathing heavy from the fight. Shaw pushed the half slumped unconscious man off her and quickly hurried on down through the building with John.

It wasn’t long until another confrontation ensued. This time the dirty secret service agent, the fake waiter from the benefit and another cop.

“Illegal spying, torture, monetisation of the American people, we were gonna put a stop to it all.” The agent tightened his grip on his gun, laser pointing directly at John and Shaw. “But at least we get to take down a couple of presidential assassins.” He smirked

“I'll take the one on the right. You get the one on the left.” Shaw whispered.

“And the middle?” John asked.

“He can only take one of us.” She shrugged.

Just before they could make a move three clean shots took down the party in front of them.  
“Joey?” John questioned as Joey Durban appeared from around the corner, rucksack slung over one shoulder.

“You know him?” Shaw looked between them confused.

“He’s one of our first numbers, he’s former army and er, bank robber.”

“I had a career change.” Joey looked between them. “No time to explain. Put those on, follow me.” He threw the bag to John.

 

***

 

Root’s elbows lent on the hard metal of her balcony, she looked down and watched the people on the street below, picking out the tourists from the locals. For the first time in a long while she had nothing imminent to do. No missions, no numbers, no bad guys. She was stuck, alone, in an unfamiliar city waiting for the inevitable to take place. She knew the outcome. The Machine had told her the simulations, the likely scenarios. A member of her team was about to die. The minimum loss would be one, maybe two, it could be all of them. But there would be a loss, somewhere. She felt recked with guilt when she caught herself hoping it wasn’t Shaw. _Anyone but Shaw_.

Root thought about the seven people she had just killed. She knew it was collateral damage, hell maybe they were all Samaritan ops, but no justification seem to sit right in her gut. There was no other way to destroy Samaritan’s core code, all they had sacrificed  
would've gone to wast for the sake of seven measly lives. She asked The Machine to tell her about who they were, right up until their last moment before the missile came down but She wouldn’t tell her.

She closed the door behind her and wandered over to her bed where her laptop sat.

“Show me where she is.” Root said.

A image popped up on her screen. It was a video streaming from a security cam in DC, Shaw was stood next to Fusco and John who were talking with Harper, Joey and Logan.

“So they met Team Machine 2.0, huh?” Root observed.

“They work well together.” The Machine stated.

“How long do you think it’ll be before I can go back?” Root looked up into her webcam.

“When its safe, Root.”

  
***

 

“Anyway we gotta go, we have another number.” Logan said, placing a hand on John’s shoulder. “Damn things won't stop coming, huh John?” He held out his hand.

“Just when I think I got things figured out with you guys.” Fusco said as he, John and Shaw started to walk back in the direction they came.

“Shaw.” Harper called out causing Shaw to turn from her group to look back at her. “About Root,”

“Yeah, thanks.” Shaw cut her off, not meaning to be rude but she wasn't in the mood for condolences.

“No. Its just, not everything is what it seems on the surface. Just remember that.” She pursed her lips to stop herself from saying anymore and left to catch up with her team.

Shaw watched her go more confused than ever. She shook her head and decided to let it go. _I don’t need this shit right now_ , she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters a little shorter than I wanted but I hope you like it

**Author's Note:**

> This was just something i needed to do to trick my mind into even deeper denial but i hope you don't hate it!


End file.
